Write by Salter -- a blog

By Jeff Salter I’m delighted to welcome back my cousin Ronnie Salters, whom I’ve discovered is not only a fantastic writer, but has many vivid experiences to share. Today’s column takes us back some five decades for a poignant life lesson from Ronnie’s childhood on the Gulf Coast, around Biloxi MS.The Woman at the GroceryBy Ronnie Salters It was one of those easy-going days before I started elementary school, when I would take the regular ride with my parents into Biloxi to shop at Brothers Grocery — owned by my mother’s cousin, Floyd, who was also the butcher. Our route was over the ‘old’ Biloxi Highway 90 Bridge (which, at that time, had been in use for only a few years). Making our way along Highway 90 we would turn onto Main Street as we headed toward Brothers Grocery, located on the east side of the street just before crossing over the L&N Railroad tracks. The north side of the tracks was a predominantly black neighborhood at a time when race relations were still distinguished by signs that read Coloreds Only or Whites Only. At that time race differences didn’t mean as much when you were poor as it apparently did among the more affluent. Poor was poor. My father — who always stayed in the car in the oyster-shell paved parking lot on the side of the grocery — would doze, people-watch, or read the latest Crime Detective magazine. I strode alongside of my mother inside the store picking up the latest and greatest cereal, begging her to get it. The highlight of the trip was always visiting with her cousin Floyd, the butcher. My mother would negotiate the price and selection of the meat based on its freshness and cut. I would stand with my face mashed against the curved glass of the display case salivating over the select cuts of meats. My favorite was the large meat tube of bologna which I pronounced as “baloney” — then and now. It was like watching a master as Floyd cut the different meats to the proper size and weight and then neatly rap them in the freezer paper and slap them down on the counter top. No sooner than it had hit, he would ask the same old question, “What else can I get you?” The bloody smell of the beef and chicken was only surpassed by the spice filled aroma of the bologna. But steak would not be on our plates that night or most others, as we were relegated to the freshly ground hamburger meat and cooked liver. Liver! The meat that looked like steak but had the unsavory taste and texture that evaded our taste buds and ended up stuffed under mashed potatoes in attempt to hide it from the judgmental eyes of my mother. But as long as I had my bologna, I was happy. As we rounded the last corner and headed toward the produce section, something occurred that would change my life forever. As we neared the apples and oranges stacked in precarious piles in their bins, a silhouette appeared in the bright light of the exit doors — a figure of a woman. As the woman neared us, I felt my mother tug at my arm trying to pull me behind her skirt. But my curiosity was insatiable. I peered around her defiantly looking at the ghostly figure of an older black woman carrying a grocery basket. As the brightness of the sunlight diminished and the fluorescent lights began to give form to the woman’s scarf-covered head, it revealed a face that was grotesquely covered in growths and protuberances. Now my mother’s pull met no resistance, as I cringed in horror behind her. My frightened eyes struggled to comprehend that the woman’s arms and exposed legs were covered with these incomprehensible growths. The woman’s eyes caught mine and I realized she could easily see I was completely terrified at her appearance. My thoughts raced wildly, trying to comprehend what my eyes were witnessing. As much as the sight repulsed every part of my being, I could not bring myself to look away. My brain absorbed all of this, imprinting on my conscious and subconscious in a way that would remain until this day. Then this inhuman-looking monster standing before me, spoke: “I won't hurt you… you don’t need to be scared.” It spoke! And in the background of the buzz going on in my brain, I heard my mother softly tell her it was okay and that she was sorry for how I was responding. I watched as the woman handled the apples, picking them up and placing them in her basket. I knew I would never touch those apples, let alone eat any. The questions ran through my brain as it tried to rationalize what I had just witnessed. Was this an infectious disease that I could catch? Would I become a tumor-covered shell of a person? I had a wart — would it spread like this? It was overwhelming to my small mind and I internalized it and began converting my sense of horror to one of pity. Later, it would become compassion… and eventually empathy. It was that moment in that time which could be defined as “from that day forward.” In retrospect, there would be many such events, as there are in everyone’s life. But that moment changed me in a profound way. And I vividly remembered that encounter again when a disfigured man approached Pope Frances last year. Without the slightest hesitation, the Pope embraced the disfigured man most people would have felt repulsed by. Visions of Joseph Merrick, the Elephant Man, came to mind… along with my very personal memory of the woman at the grocery. A vivid memory from an age when I had very little understanding of such things. Watching Pope Francis unhesitatingly embrace and kiss that disfigured man, I shed a tear and realized what wonderful human being he is. It is those feelings of compassion and empathy that let us understand people who are less fortunate than ourselves… and move us to reach out to make their lives better. And so it is paid forward. The time, the place, the memory connected an infinite thread that has reached from that moment to a teenager who volunteered to help those students with special needs. To reach out to others in the form of a youth group that saw other youth to reach out beyond themselves and to those less fortunate than themselves. So many who would be moved to careers of service to humanity. And whether it be an old disfigured woman in a grocery store touching a frightened little boy or the Pope in an act of selfless compassion, that thread connects us and changes us in the most profound ways.

I knew this would be a memorable read, as Ronnie is indeed a compassionate and colorful soul with a sense of humor..(I could never tell if you were serious when we were younger Ronnie...lol)! I enjoyed your story...it showed much empathy and I was drawn in as if I was there too. Love your heart Ronnie!

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Jeff Salter

3/3/2014 10:21:28 pm

Thanks for visiting, Sharon.
Ronnie is my youngest first cousin, and he was just a toddler when we used to play Simon Says and other games with his older brothers, Jimmy Jr., Richard, and Robert.
So I've only really gotten to "know" him thru Facebook. It pleases me greatly to see how mature and insightful he is.

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Ronnie Salters

3/3/2014 11:11:48 pm

Sharon, thanks so much for your kind remarks. My humor is so intertwined with my seriousness that sometimes I cant even tell where one ends and the other begins. I guess that is what satire is? I hope one day that we can get all of you that devoted so much of your time and energy to helping those less fortunate. I'm thinking a weekend at Camp Wilkes would be a perfect setting to pry loose all those memories of all the great times we had as counselors at the Summer Camp for Persons with Developmental Disabilities. I know you met people that were similar to the person in my story that we came to know and love. And some we brought into our lives as people we call friends. There were so many good stories from those days. I added quite a few stories to those hallowed grounds later as a Scoutmaster taking my son from Tiger Cub to Eagle Scout. A walk through Camp Wilkes is almost overwhelming.

Thank you, Sherry. I'm glad I could share a little of introspect on tying our experiences, sometimes going back to our childhood, to our thoughts and feelings today. I think most of us don't recall direct correlations, but it is my feeling that those ties do exist. I guess it makes us feel responsible for how we treat others as we go through life.

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Jeff Salter

3/4/2014 12:10:33 am

Glad you could visit, Sherry.

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Ronnie Salters

3/3/2014 10:44:33 pm

Thank you, Sharon. You were one of my favorites in the old "Youth Group" days. Jeff, as you well know the Salter clan has an insatiable sense of humor. I was so blessed to know a group of teenagers that devoted so much of their time to selflessly helping others. During my high school years and thereafter I was involved with the Ocean Springs Youth Association for Exceptional Children. Many of the teenagers that were in this group went on to work as professionals in the field of Special Education and Social Services. Though the teenagers worked hard to provide activities with kids with special needs, we also did not forget to have fun along the way. And as my story attests, there are those special moments that we can trace back that made us look at our world in a different way. I am glad that I was able to remember those times and make that connection, as others have.
I still get a little emotional(yes, funny guys get emotional), when someone tells me how they were affected by their experiences they had in the youth group working with the children. Now that is paying it forward.

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Jeff Salter

3/4/2014 12:19:05 am

I wish I had not missed so many of those years, Ronnie. But after we'd reached a certain age, it seemed so much more difficult to scoop up everybody and haul us 90 miles to Biloxi.
But I surely have great memories of those earlier days when we did visit y'all.

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Ronnie Salters

3/4/2014 01:31:50 am

I miss those years as well. Time, distance, all those things get in the way sometimes. I'm glad we are making up for lost time.

Jeff Salter

3/4/2014 03:55:20 am

amen, cousin

Becky Gatian

3/3/2014 11:57:37 pm

Of course I'm sitting here bawling like a baby. Ronnie you have always been so special yourself, and I'm so thankful for this moment in your life. Thank you for taking the time to share it. You are one of THE most selfless people I have known throughout my life, and because of your stories, and you just being yourself I am blessed. Thanks so much for the story, and thanks to Cousin Jeff for having him as a guest! This blog is going on my follow list!! :)

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Jeff Salter

3/4/2014 12:12:19 am

Great to see you today, Becky.
It's cool for me to get to meet some of Cousin Ronnie's friends.
I hope you'll stop in again soon.

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Ronnie Salters

3/4/2014 12:24:20 am

Jeff, Becky is more than a good friend. She was a wonderful teacher and a darn good photographer these days. I was best friends with her brother, Ronnie, through our High school years. And it was he and her father that eventually gave me a long career with the railroad. I used to have long conversations with her father John Seymour who, as I said was a commercial fisherman all his life on the Gulf Coast. He was an extraordinary man who lived off the waters. Braved many a storm and invented things that would have made some men millionaires. He could fix anything! His life story could be read in his hands.

Jeff Salter

3/4/2014 12:30:58 am

Sounds to me like John Seymour should be the inspiration for a character in one of your FICTION stories.
Unless you've already written a true article about the actual man and his experiences.

Ronnie Salters

3/4/2014 01:23:23 am

Jeff, John Seymour was a true inspiration to me. I was fortunate to be able work with him in designing some crab traps and some jigs and fixtures for my old clients to produce. We made thousands of those "crab pots" for commercial crabbers over the years. John was part of a dying breed of men we called fisherman. They made their entire living off the water much like the farmers did of the land. You could always look at their hands and read a lifetime of pain and toil. Yep, there is story to be told there! And as a character of fiction he would transcend that of the working man, a fisherman, a man of the earth.

Ronnie Salters

3/4/2014 12:14:12 am

Thank you, Becky. I know we go way back to those times when you helped with the kids. And of course you made a career of Special Education working with the deaf. I know your retirement this past year was bitter sweet. But I'm equally glad that I am able to share your love of wildlife through photography.
But every time I think of you, I think of your parents and the many cups of coffee I shared with them in the kitchen. telling stories with your dad. I so remember his grizzled hands with those deep fissures from his days as a commercial fisherman. That's a real story that needs to be told. In my minds eye, I am rummaging through the back workshop where crabs were cooked and crab pots made. Yep, that's a real story! If you haven't read "Beautiful Swimmer" yet, you must. And by the way thank you once again for the beautiful book of the Grand Bay Preserve.There is no better gift than a book!

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Briley.

3/4/2014 12:24:39 pm

Incredible Ronnie. I have tears in my eyes. A beautiful story told by a sensitive and observant individual. We're lucky to have you here.

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Jeff Salter

3/4/2014 01:26:44 pm

Thank you for visiting, Briley.
And for your supportive comments.

Ronnie Salters

3/5/2014 04:47:28 am

Thank you, Briley, it's good to see you on visiting my Cousins Blog. I know you can relate to such stories in your life as well. Those experiences that change us and make us better people.

Ronnie Salters

3/5/2014 05:01:27 am

Thank you, Briley, it's good to see you visiting on my Cousins Blog. I know you can relate to such stories in your life as well. Those experiences that change us and make us better people. Waiting on that book of yours also.

Leslie Moragne Molnar

3/4/2014 12:39:39 am

Thank you Jeff, for posting Ronnie's touching story. Ronnie, you took us back in time to experience a profound moment in your life, and to illustrate our instinct to fear one who is different. But, with a simple touch or gentle words, we realize there is nothing to fear and we are all the same...humans going about the business of life...trying to fulfill similar wants and needs. Your story proves what a sensitive & insightful human you have always been, Ronnie.

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Ronnie Salters

3/4/2014 01:10:56 am

Thank you, Leslie. I remember that fear well and it was a legitimate fear coming from such a little boy as I was at the time. Your right, when we learn to look at people with understanding, we take away all our fears and preconceptions of them and we begin to live in harmony. Wow, if we could only do that on a larger scale. I guess that's part of story telling; getting us in touch with ourselves and others through understanding. I think that's a noble cause. One my cousin does really well!

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Jeff Salter

3/4/2014 03:45:30 am

Delighted to see you, Leslie.
And it is a pleasure for me to devote blog space to my talented insightful cousin. Soon, I'm sure he will have his own blog, on which he can share even more.

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Betsy Chandler

3/4/2014 01:16:09 am

Touching story, Ronnie, and a good read. We should all be reminded often that it's what's on the inside that counts.

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Ronnie Salters

3/4/2014 01:38:43 am

Thank you, Betsy. You are so right. She probably never knew how she profoundly affected the mind of a small child that day, but I thank her for that gift. Its amazing what small things we do can make such big differences. That's quite a responsibility when you think about it.

Wow. Awesome story. I was led to read this having lived in Ocean Springs, courtesy of the U.S. Navy, and traversed that Highway 90 bridge many times to visit Keesler Air Force Base to do grocery shopping of my own - and give birth to my son on one particular trip over :-). LOVE that area of the country and recently went back to visit 30 years later.

What a beautiful story you shared today!!!! I'm a retired teacher and have always treasured and nurtured underdogs. I learned to stop seeing people as people, but instead see them as souls. It makes a world of difference. Thanks for all you've done to nurture all those souls along the way through your life's journey - from Highway 90 and beyond.

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Ronnie Salters

3/4/2014 01:48:14 am

Thank you, Heather, and what a wonderful comment you made. To see people not as people, but as souls. What a wonderful world it would be if we all thought that way. And yes, Ocean Springs is a wonderful town to grow up in. I think the influences of tourist, the military, and artisans made us a little more aware than most. At 57 I'm discovering our sleepy little town all over again.

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Jeff Salter

3/4/2014 03:48:33 am

Thanks for visiting Heather.
I am also acquainted with the Biloxi coast thru Keesler. For some 2.5 years, i went to monthly drills with the Air Force Reserve there (after my active duty time).
I was with the 920th Tactical Airlift Group which later became the 920th Weather Reconnaissance Group.

LOL, Jeff. We lived in Ocean Springs and I went to monthly drills at Gulfport as a Navy Reservist, after MY active duty time. And, oh, my goodness, the two week annual ACDUTRAs in New Orleans were worth the price of admission! Now retired, I write Navy romance novels! Write On!

Jeff Salter

3/4/2014 08:41:41 am

Heather, if you drilled at Gulfport, did you happen to know Lt. Denny Boxx?
He was with me at the Info Office of the 920th at Keesler until he transferred to the the Gulfport station. Don't know if he remained in AF uniform or somehow donned Navy.

Sarah Beaugex

3/4/2014 02:03:17 am

Ronnie this is a beautiful story told beautifully. Your word pictures are vividly painted and quite capable of embedding the same in my soul. Although the woman may have initially evoked fear in the eyes of a little boy, her gentle touch was to your very core; your soul. You have spent a lifetime touching others who may be unlovely or throwaway to some or most, but you've also spent a lifetime touching others as though "Jesus with skin on." I have great respect for you, my friend, and I am happy to cal you my friend. You follow the command of Christ who says, "If you've done it to the least of these, my brother, you've done it unto me." Thanks for sharing part of your beautiful soul.

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Ronnie Salters

3/4/2014 03:00:01 am

Sarah, you are so eloquent with your words. Thank you for your kind remarks, you are more than kind. I think that writing like photography is a sharing experience. I would only hope that I could write as well as you have in your journals about your life in the Delta. I do so look forward to the day that you publish your story of you and Freddy. You paint such a romantic setting of life in the Delta and combined with your photography, astounding. What's amazing about your story is that rather than a fictionalized story, it was your life. Yours is another story that begs to be told and it will, that I am sure of.

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Ronnie Salters

3/4/2014 03:38:45 am

I do recall your memoirs called The Outer Edge of Grace about your son. And the stories of your life in Colorado, and of course Freddy and the Delta; I know that writing has been your therapy with his loss. I was also intrigued by your writings on your travels in Europe. But I especially thought your experiences at the penitentiary were fascinating insight into the minds of those in our prison system rom a perspective that only you could tell.

Great job Uncle Ronnie! Becky hit the nail on the head, you are the most "selfless" person I have known. It's not only an honor to be your Nephew but I also consider you as a close friend!

Peace!

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Ronnie Salters

3/4/2014 05:24:34 am

With a last name like yours, David, I think you may just be a little partial. My poor little brain was in sensory overload at that moment in time. That's why I remember it so well, indelibly burned onto my hard drive. But the true hero of the story was that woman who I will never know. It was she who understood my fear and acted kindly to me that broke all of my preconceptions of what I was experiencing. At that age, to me she was literally, a monster, and her actions destroyed that in me and gave her, her humanity that I saw. That moment in time, those actions that we all chose made the world a better place. Now, I wouldn't want to get all metaphysical on you nephew and spoil all the good joking and fun we have, but that little bit of positive energy is Einsteinian (my word) in that like E=MC2 , that small act of kindness created all these positive things in my life and others....it was a chain reaction. It does pay itself forward, even if we don't recognize it at the moment. Okay, Jeff, I think I just blew a breaker! I think I may have had too many Red Bulls this morning. LOL
What I meant to say is, thank you Nephew and I am proud to be your Uncle and Friend. Looking forward to some great photography shoots with you. (For editing purposes, Jeff, I capitalized nephew, uncle and friend to show respect and high regards as I do you Cousin.)

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Jeff Salter

3/4/2014 08:46:24 am

Wonderful to see you here, David.
Wanted you to know that there's another David in the extended family -- my son David Salter.
So Ronnie has Davids as both nephew and 2nd cousin.

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Cheryl Belle- Lash (formerly Salters)

3/4/2014 09:17:08 am

As others have noted Ronnie, I felt as though I was with you there during this time! Thank you for sharing with us!!

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Jeff Salter

3/4/2014 11:31:58 am

Glad you could visit Cheryl.
Yes, Ronnie's writing has a way of making the reader feel he/she is right there! That's a rare qualilty.

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Ronnie Salters

3/4/2014 09:50:19 am

Hi, Cheryl, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Its good to hear from you. Both Jeff and Charles are both published writers and are wonderful people. As Jeff said we now have another David Salter and I thought one was enough. You'll have to check out some of his books. Jeff has me writing a short fictional story based on my Caribbean travels. I didn't know how hard writing was.

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Jeff Salter

3/4/2014 11:33:33 am

Glad you reminded me, Cousin. I've been meaning to ask you how you're progressing on that short novella. I knew you were in classes all last week, which must have drained off a lot of energy.

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Ronnie Salters

3/4/2014 12:15:29 pm

Its a work in progress, Jeff. The storyline is complete and trying to add some mystery, misdirection and trying to keep it as factual as I can. I'm writing and tying it all together. I'm not good on romance so it may be lacking there. You wouldn't know any good Romance Writers would you? LOL. Hopefully I will wrap it up this weekend, ready for editing and tweaking.

Charles Salter

3/4/2014 11:13:18 pm

Welcome back, Cousin! This is a terrific story from the old days, and very vividly written. It brings to mind many similar encounters in my own life which I had all but forgotten. Several occurred, like yours, during early childhood. But the one which touches me most even now as I think back on it occurred later, when I lived in Philadelphia. There was a man who had no face who belonged to my church there. I'm not sure exactly what happened to him, for he never spoke. But it must have been some terrible injury. He would only attend church on Sunday night, only when it was dark. And he would sit only in the back. And if someone such as myself tried to approach and greet him, he immediately turned away. It was so sad that even in church he couldn't seem to make meaningful contacts with people, not even with those who tried to reach out. I think the pastor himself was the only one he would open up to.

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Jeff Salter

3/5/2014 09:12:38 am

Thanks for visiting, Charles.
That was a very touching description of a man who obviously spend much of his life hiding in the shadows. How painful his years must have been. Hopefully he found some peace in those church services.

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Ronnie Salters

3/5/2014 03:17:07 am

Thanks, Cousin Charles, its good to be back on Jeff's Blog. That was a very emotional and sad story about the man at your church.
The torture he must have put himself through on top of what he
had already gone through. Such exile and isolation! I hope that he eventually came to realize that people would embrace him as a fellow human being and not as his unfortunate disfigurement.
Jeff sent me a personal message about someone who was moved by my story and upon reflection acted upon it. Paid forward yet again. How could I ever repay that woman in my childhood for the things she did not even know she did to that frightened little boy she confronted that day. Those tendrils that intertwine our lives are amazing things. I keep thinking what empowerment and responsibility it is in the way we act towards others.
Thank you again, Charles, for your story.

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J.L. Salter

I’ve been a writer since my first poems and stories during elementary school days.* co-author of two non-fiction monographs (about librarianship) with a royalty publisher, plus a chapter in another book and an article in a specialty encyclopedia* I've also published articles, book reviews, and over 120 poems * my writing has won nearly 40 awards, including several in national contests * as a newspaper photo-journalist, I published about 150 bylined newspaper articles, and some 100 bylined photos* Decorated veteran of U.S. Air Force (including a remote tour of duty in the Arctic … at Thule AB in N.W. Greenland).* worked nearly 30 years in the field of librarianship.* married parent of two and grandparent of six.